


Boots

by suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, chaleigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boots are a handy accessory. They're also a pretty decent shield. Against most people anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boots

Boots are a handy accessory. They help cut down the awkward of any sexual encounter by more than half. As there's no scuttling about looking for articles of clothing. They cut down on stubbed toes and bruised shins too. They also ensure a quick get away. When all one has to do is reach down and tug, zip, clasp...one is able to slip free of the area of transgression quickly and efficiently, with no loss of dignity or personal property.

He has spent many hours perfecting the art. Finding partners wherever he could manage. Making quick, hard, occasionally rough connections that never lasted longer than a few impassioned kisses and wandering hands. Chuck was all about achieving relief and moving on. He wasn't an unfair partner - he believed it had to be mutually beneficial or there were debts owed and he hated debts - he just wasn't much for finesse. Oh, he was a decent lover by anyone's standards. Never left a partner without their own release. Never left unseemly marks - never stood for any to be left on him. Never asked for more, never expected more, never expected anything, really.

Transference is a bit of a problem when it comes to drifting with your parent, but Chuck figures if he has to live the rest of his life knowing how he was conceived, then his dad could live with knowing his son liked taking it up the ass.

Herc is professional, so Chuck never did quite get the response he'd half hoped for. Instead, Herc looked at him with a sadness that never failed to piss him off. It took him months to figure out what the look was founded in - intense feelings could cloud mutual transference fairly easily, and Herc was better at coping than Chuck, what with all those years drifting with Uncle Scott. And when he did finally figure out that Herc was upset that Chuck felt sex was nothing more than a physical release and completely incapable of being anything _more_ \- despite apparent evidence to the contrary, thanks Dad and Uncle Scott - he'd initially been at a loss about what to do. That had lasted all of an hour, before he got angry, got drunk, and got himself a proper threeway.

It's bothered him ever since. It isn't that he thinks he can't do better. He's fairly certain if he wanted to, if he ever bothered to actually _try_ , he could easily land someone worthwhile - Chuck's not really picky, and the right woman with the right bend could be enough with a little help from a strap on. He just has no interest in doing so. He never has and he doubts he ever will.

Commitment means having no options. No choices. Loving someone takes away all inherent ability to rationalize and function at top capacity, and Chuck enjoys being the best. He isn't about to throw his whole life away because he can't help himself. And he sure as hell never wants to be put into a situation where he's willing to throw away everything, including his continued existence, in exchange for someone else's. He's more than happy to put his life on the line for the world, but _one_ person who means the world to him? No thank you.

Still, the world's about to end, and he figures, he could do worse than Raleigh Becket. If he's honest with himself, he'd realize he doesn't think _he's_ good enough for _Raleigh_. But Chuck's never been good with self-actualization. Denial and subterfuge are more his thing. And taking what he can get when and where he can get it. Raleigh was most assuredly on the list of 'want but that'll happen when the world ends' which, honestly, yeah, he can cross that off now.

Raleigh kisses with his whole body. Crowding Chuck against the bulkhead, the wall, the bed. Hands firm, steady, and yet somehow still tender as they rake through Chuck's hair, slide under his shirt, and eagerly shed clothes. To his surprise, he's toeing off his boots, before Raleigh even makes for them. Kicking his pants free and rolling them over so he can fling them off the side of the bed with a sideways motion of his leg.

He's never been naked with anyone before. Not completely naked; the full, delicious hot flush of miles and miles of skin and muscle pressed together, writhing against one another, and... _oh_....Raleigh has a _wonderful_ mouth.

There are scars on Raleigh's body, which is nothing new to Chuck. There's hardly a body without one these days. No, what makes Raleigh's scars interesting is the pattern they take. Chuck takes his time exploring them. Running hands and lips and tongue all over them. Tracing them until Raleigh squirms and whimpers, and Chuck decides to pull back before he can think of Yancy, forcing the whole encounter to be scrapped because of a little too much attention. No, if they're going to do this, they're going to make it memorable. There's a very real chance they'll be the last people they ever sleep with. Something in Chuck's chest warms and eases at the thought.

They definitely make it last. Long and slow and endless. Chuck's never experienced anything like it in his entire life. Nothing anywhere close. There's a very real fear in his chest the next morning that he might be dangerously close to something like the stirrings of love. So, he's lucky there's very little chance they'll be coming back from this alive. At least, if their suicide run pans out and they somehow _miraculously_ survive, the worst that could happen is that it gets weird before they part ways. At best...Chuck won't let himself think of that. Instead he focuses on Raleigh's ass as Stacker launches into his speech. Takes in the gold hair and the cut of his jaw. Commits to memory the span of his shoulders and what it feels like to hold him in his arms. What it feels like to be held tightly in Raleigh's as they breathe in one another's exhales. Too busy gasping, moaning, kissing to do much more. To care about anything beyond that moment.

The clapping - and Raleigh's abrupt movement - breaks him out of the spell. He shakes his head and blinks. He needs to suit up.

"Chuck!"

He turns in time to catch Raleigh's jog in his peripheral before he's in his personal space. Pressing them into the shadows of the wreckage of Crimson Typhoon; recovered for the necessary components to patch their own Jaegers back together in order to keep on schedule. The kiss is all things final and desperate and faithful and promising.

"Don't be an idiot," Raleigh husks against his lips, fingers in his hair. Chuck wishes he weren't already suited up so he could feel his skin against his scalp. Or maybe that he was too, just so he'd know what it felt like to rut up against another pilot in gear. "If you get a chance, take it. We're an endangered species about to go extinct one way or another. I'd rather it be on talk show couches and dodging paparazzi than..." He stops abruptly, unable to say what Chuck knows he wants to. Even so many years later, the physical loss of having no body to mourn and bury kept Yancy's death a cold weight in Raleigh's soul.

"Yeah, well," Chuck counters, slapping both hands over Raleigh's ass and tugging his hips forward, unable to squeeze it one last time thanks to the suit. " _I'd_ rather it be on couches...and beds and the floor..." His smirk threatens to turn into a smile as Raleigh laughs. "And beaches..."

Raleigh silences him with a kiss. "We'll talk about your voyeurism kink when we get back."

"As long as you don't get boring on me, old man," he replies, smirk stretching.

"Got too many tricks left for that," Raleigh remarks with a smile.

"We'll see about that."

The lightness suddenly drops, like a ball crashing through a window. And they're kissing desperately again, clutching one another close, bodies coiled and pressed flat against the smooth metal behind them.

When Raleigh pulls away, he's panting. Chuck isn't any better off. His ass is swatted playfully as the blond takes a step back. "Better suit up so we can get back and have victory sex."

"Best kind there is."

Raleigh quirks a brow.

Chuck scrubs at the back of his head, face and neck tinting pink slightly. "Don't ask."

Raleigh laughs - he understands - and with one last squeeze to Chuck's arm, disappears out into the crowded hangar. Chuck straightens out, rakes both hands through his hair with a steadying inhale and turns on his heel, strolling out with his mightiest swagger.

"Hey Becket!"

Mako and Raleigh pause and look at him as one.

"Better keep the lights on!"

Raleigh's smile is enough to light up Chuck's insides. He winks and Chuck winks back, before heading off to suit up. The last view he has of Raleigh is the older ranger shaking his head and pointing at something on a datapad. Mako tucked close to his side, shaking her head.

The last view Raleigh has of Chuck is the kill count across the back of his bomber, and the curve of his cap. When they get back, Raleigh leaves the lights on, but Chuck never shows.


End file.
